


Sunset. Palau.

by JetnessAffliction



Category: Gundam Unicorn
Genre: Anal Sex, Blue Balls, Clothed Sex, M/M, Military Uniforms, Office Sex, Sadomasochism, Sexual Training, Uniforms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-17
Updated: 2013-09-17
Packaged: 2017-12-26 21:54:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/970700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JetnessAffliction/pseuds/JetnessAffliction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in OAV universe (ep2). No one else knows exactly what Angelo wants and how to deny him that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sunset. Palau.

It was always behind closed doors, this sort of training, but Angelo is no stranger to these methods and his tolerance level has been built up over years. As well as his senses. Even his whole body and a new understanding of what power really means. It is different though, with him, because praise or reassurance would never be enough to motivate Angelo, nor would brute force. “Restraint” was a complex concept to someone who would never run dry of such intense rage or resentment. But if Full Frontal could hammer and fold that concept into the young officer's life, he would be able to hone possibly one of the finest blades in the entire earth sphere.

And there were many perks to keeping such a blade at his side.

* * *

By the time the Captain lances into him he can barely register the glow of Palau's perfectly timed sunset back lighting and emphasizing those red and gold outlines. He can't even feel the desk's surface at his back or the soreness in his arms as he grips the edge above his head, too focused on the sensation spreading through his body like wildfire. His skin is prickling all over, from his neck to his nipples to his calves and ankles suspended above his head, knees inches from his shoulders. He is still wearing his uniform from the waist up, and the thick fabric across his chest is constricting his breaths and movement as he tries to breath. Even then, when he draws in a shaky breath and blinks away the stinging sensation in his eyes, it's only because the Captain has commanded it.

The pain is momentarily intense and raw, but soon his body is shaking with want as every nerve is shocked to hyper sensitivity, and the need for more starts throbbing, layering like waves. His skin is flushed and feverish as the suppressed need to move, to meet his commander's thrust, reverberates through his body and dies shamefully between his lips in a needy whine. But the smirk that the Captain responds with tells him to stay on that precarious edge of pleasure, so he does. 

The Captain holds him there, gloved hands holding him in place so that it's _only there_ that they are even connected-- with skin and blood and the most morally debased purposes. The low thrum is contained and controlled in Angelo so expertly that it drives him mad in moments like this. His erection is straining, dripping with pre-cum as if all his sense of self was draining out with it. He is nothing but a mass of nerves and flesh for the Captain to direct and the only way he manages to make no other sound is to repeat that fact in his head.

But he loses focus instantly when the Captain bends closer over him, slowly driving himself deeper into Angelo as he speaks with a measured tone, efficiently more forceful than if he had been pounding the young officer into oblivion: “You were a bit too harsh on our young guest today, Lieutenant....”

Angelo can't take it. Can't hold his body still for much longer as he digs his nails into the wood and fights the convulsions to just fucking move _please, God, Captain, please!_

He gasps when he feels the familiar texture of those white gloves wrap tightly around his cock, a shock of pleasure so exquisite that his vision blurs. His whole world narrows to the feeling of the Captain pulling back, driving in deeper, faster, angled so perfectly on target that Angelo feels the assault is decimating his entire existence and he can't, he can't possibly hold back much longer when the edge is right there and-

\--then it stops. Full Frontal withdraws without so much as a sigh and pulls away, leaving Angelo frozen in the most obscene, wanton display without any warning. It's only the sound of the Captain's footsteps heading away that shocks him back to cognition. 

“In the future, I don't want to regret having you around for such discussions.” In his heightened state of confused arousal, the words echo in Angelo's head like sirens and burn an impression into his memory.

“Now clean yourself up and be on alert.”

 

[end]

**Author's Note:**

> originally requested on /m/, re-archived from http://newtypebanana.blogspot.com/. Original request was anything FF/Angelo. Also running on the novel-canon (rumor?) that Angelo was an ex-prostitute before FF recruited him. Because Neo Zeon runs on battle whores.


End file.
